


Somebody Else

by axelester



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Coffee Shops, M/M, Post-Break Up, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axelester/pseuds/axelester
Summary: He doesn't want his body but he hates to think about him with somebody else.





	Somebody Else

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of The 1975's Somebody Else.

“So I heard you found somebody else.”

It seemed like a great conversation starter to Seán, but the twisted look that crossed Mark’s face made all his confidence disappear. He sighed, sucking in his lips as a way to apologize, an apology that was long overdue and far from adequate, he knew, and he met Mark’s eye and gave him a look. The look he gave him when he’d sat Mark down to have their long, meaningful talk about the girl Seán had gone to second base with when Mark was out of town.

His heart had been racing a hundred miles an hour ever since he saw Mark set foot in the coffee shop, to him ordering his usual. It leaped into his throat when Mark glanced around the place and caught Mark’s eye and _saw_ the scowl-turned gasp that left his lips. He fixed his glasses on the bridge of his nose, rolled his shoulders and with his head held high he had made his way over to Seán’s small table in the corner of the shop, where nobody would notice them (he hoped).

Mark’s stone expression hadn’t changed upon sitting down, nor melted when he took a sip of the coffee and glared at the other man over the rim of the cup. The steam fogged up his glasses, and Seán couldn’t stop the mirthless chuckle that escaped him. Mark had raised an eyebrow up at him, the first major change his facial expression went through after sitting down, and set the cup down, licking his lips and taking a deep breath.

And then Seán said, “At first I thought it was a lie.”

Mark rolled his eyes, just that, no chuckle or smile. He crossed his arms, though, and leaned back into the chair. “Why did you think it was a lie? You didn’t think I could move on so quickly?”

Seán tugged the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands, staring down at his half-empty cup of coffee that had already begun cooling down. His voice was hoarse when he finally answered, “No.” He cleared his throat, raising his head to stare down those brown eyes, “No, I didn’t think you’d move on so quickly.”

“Well, I did.” Mark gave a bittersweet smile, sickeningly nasty, a smile that definitely didn’t belong with those mellow eyes. “And I’m glad I did. He treats me right, and makes time for me, and listens to me, and—oh!” Mark’s eyes now held a mischievous glint, smile growing crueler, “ _doesn’t_ cheat on me when I’m out of town.”

He knew it was a cheap shot. He knew Seán felt bad and words couldn’t express how much Seán regretted it all. But he also knew this would be the last time he could see Seán before he’d move back to Ireland, and he felt like getting one last sting in, one last hit to his heart.

“I know,” Seán finally said, after a minute of silence had stretched between them. His voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper, now, like it’d hurt his throat if his voice wasn’t so low. “I know,” he repeated, “I saw the pictures. I know you said you’d find someone to take my place, I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“Are you calling Ethan a rebound?” Mark narrowed his eyes at him, and he didn’t miss the way Seán’s head shot up at the sound of his new boyfriend’s name. “Because you’re wrong, you know. He’s not a rebound.”

And Seán suddenly wished that his black coffee was an Irish coffee, “I’m not calling him a rebound,” he quickly defended himself. He had half a mind to raise his hands but kept them firmly to his legs, his nails digging into his thighs. “I’m not calling him anything. I’m just surprised, is all.”

Mark gave him a sharp look, his eyebrow lifted just the slightest bit, and if you didn’t know it, you wouldn’t see it, but Seán did, because Mark gave him that exact look on their final night together.

Eventually he rolled his eyes and fished his phone out of his pocket, the tiniest smile stretching onto his face. Seán could faintly see a text conversation reflected off Mark’s glasses, and his heart sunk as he realized who it could be.

Mark thumbs tapped away at the screen, and Seán watched him scroll through his emojis, sending him a range of cute, flirty ones, the ones with the hearts. He ended his series with the blue-colored heart, and that chipped away Seán’s heart piece by piece, because Mark always sent _him_ that one, because of his eyes.

“So,” Mark started, not looking up from his phone, as a new text came through and Seán saw his eyes move as he read it, “What’s this gonna be? Why did you call me,” he looked up now, briefly, to give him that same look, though less intense and a little more amused, “ _five times_ , to tell me to meet you here?”

Seán hesitated at the second of eye contact, and especially when Mark looked back down at his phone to continue whatever he was doing on there. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything stupid, like ‘ _Why don’t you pay attention to me_ ’, or ‘ _Stop looking at your phone_ ’ or ‘ _Please come back to me I’m begging you_ ’.

So instead he said, “Well, I wanted to see you, before I moved back to Ireland, y’know. You do know I’m moving back right? I made a video but I wasn’t sure if yo—”

“Yes,” Mark interrupted him, raising a hand, glancing at him over his glasses, but not looking up from his phone. “I saw the video.”

And after a few minutes of absolute silence on his part—and occasionally a snort from Mark—and what felt like every eye of the shop on them, he eventually said, “So how are things with you, and—and Ethan?” And he knew it was a mistake.

Mark shut off his phone and his eyes lit up when he looked back at him, a soft, adoring smile on his face as he briefly glanced at his phone’s lock screen, before settling themselves on Seán’s eye.

“They’re—They’re great. They’re absolutely great. It’s been so great. So, so great.”

And ‘great’ didn’t seem like a word anymore.

“Yeah?” Seán eventually breathed. He started fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt under the table, purposefully ignoring Mark’s gaze. “Well, I’m glad for you. He seems like a stand-up guy. You’re both very lucky.”

“He is, he’s really great. He’s kind of like you, he’s really pretty, he has really pretty eyes.”

Seán’s heart leaped into his throat, but he forced it down again. “That—That’s nice. I’m glad you’re so happy with him.”

Two coffees and half an hour later, it was like they fell back into their old routine of stopping by this place every weekend, catching up when their schedules clashed. They started talking videos, and future conventions, and Seán almost, _almost_ , forgot they had broken up.

He had his hand on the table, relaxed, but just a little _too_ close to Mark to be considered a friendly gesture. Mark noticed, and he raised his head from scrolling through his phone looking for pictures of Chica to show to him. His expression was as stoic as when the non-date started, but eventually, a smile appeared on Mark’s face, albeit a bit forced, and his eyes didn’t exactly join in.

But he extended his own hand, and touched Seán’s fingertips with his own.

Seán let out a shaky breath, swallowing, forcing himself to look at the buttons on Mark’s shirt, and he noticed that the top two were unbuttoned. He let his eyes roam over the expanse of Mark’s throat and the part of Mark’s chest he could see, but there, right on Mark’s collarbone, was a small bruise, and Seán’s heart leapt into his throat again but not in the nice way, no. It blocked his airways and he honestly felt like he could throw up, and Mark was asking if he was okay since he pulled his hand away so sharply, nearly knocking over his coffee in the process.

And to top it all off, the heap of blue hair, the color not much unlike Seán’s eyes, suddenly entered his peripheral vision, and with frantic eyes he saw how Ethan put his hand on the back of Mark’s chair.

Seán recognized the way Mark’s eyes lit up when he, too, finally caught a glimpse of the admittedly-much-younger-than-Mark guy.

He watched the way Mark turned his body to the guy, putting his hand on his upper arm and hooking his index finger from his other hand under Ethan’s chin, gently pulling him down to himself, with his eyes fluttering closed.

He also noticed the way Mark had to force his smile into a pout to finally kiss Ethan’s lips, and up until then Seán pretended that they were just close friends, you know, but the kiss sealed the deal and he stood up now, abruptly, leaving a ten-dollar bill on the table.

He wanted to be out of there, and he wanted out _now_ , so he excused himself, because everything that had to do with Mark reminded him that he should be getting over it, but how could he, when Ethan was so like him, with his body and his hair and the way he made Mark’s eyes lit up.

So he left. Without another word to Mark he left back to Ireland, and didn’t return his calls. He made a point of avoiding his videos, he unfollowed him on Twitter, and Instagram, and the only way he heard Mark’s voice was the daily voicemail he left him.

And then he started leaving less, one every two days, and that turned into one every week, into one every month.

And it was okay.


End file.
